


In the sight of the gods

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: smut_tuesdays, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-23
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only tender time Sam could remember was their wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the sight of the gods

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S3  
> A/N: Never let it be said I won't write smut in my grandmother's breakfast nook. Happy [**smut_tuesdays**](http://community.livejournal.com/smut_tuesdays/)!  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

When she was gone, the only tender time Sam could remember was their wedding night. After the way she'd startled him, shaking him awake and dragging him to the river to shiver under the anointment, and after the guilty longing on her face and Lee's when they'd run into him, and after gritting their teeth together under the tattooer's needle, free hands clutched together, he wanted to make something special of it. Something true. He scooped Kara up despite the soreness of his arm and carried her over the threshold of their tent, ignoring her protests, kissing her quiet. He laid her carefully on the bed. She tried to drag him down too, tugging at his shirt, but he freed her hands from him and kissed her fingertips.

"What are you doing, Sammy?" she said, with that look on her face like she didn't know whether to kiss him or bite him.

"It's our wedding night," he said. "Should be special."

"Sam, it's not like we haven't done this before," she said. She raised her eyebrow at him and he almost blushed, remembering the previous times: playful, rough, convenient, drunken, desperate, affectionate, but nothing that seemed right for the situation.

"'Course not," he said. "But we weren't ever _married_ before. I mean, this is in the sight of the gods and all."

"I pray to Aphrodite and Athena," she said, smirking. "Neither of them care how we consummate it."

"I do," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding her hands. He raised them carefully to his lips and kissed each knuckle. "You're my wife, Kara. That means something."

"It does," she said, watching him kiss her hands. She looked puzzled. "It does."

"Tonight I can be as gentle as I want," he said, pressing her hands to his heart and then releasing them. "Nothing you can do about it."

"I'm not suddenly property just because we're married," she said, that little frown between her eyebrows, but she was still. If she kicked, she'd kick hard. "I didn't surrender my say. What if I want it rough in celebration?"

"Wait until tomorrow," he said. "We'll be tired of each other by then. Isn't that how marriage works?"

She grinned broadly and his heart felt lighter. "You're smarter than you look, Sammy."

"Thanks," he said, rolling his eyes. "I love you too."

"I do love you," she said softly. "I know I'm not the best...I mean..."

"I know," he reassured her. "Close your eyes." She did, sighing, and he slipped one hand around the back of her head and kissed her eyelids. He kissed her cheekbones, stroking the lines of her face with his fingertips. He traced the spiral inside her ear with his nose. She shivered and he put his arms around her, brushing his lips down the side of her neck.

He undressed her like she was the idol in the temple, slow and reverent, mapping her exposed skin with his lips and hands. She smelled like beer and sunshine and sweat and river water and he loved her, every beat-up inch of her. He touched the scar she had from the Cylons, when they'd taken her on Caprica. He made the outline of the fresh ink on her arm; when the tattoos healed, when he held her, they'd fly together. She stayed mostly still, whimpering now and again, her eyes squeezed shut. He loved the way her teeth clenched when she wanted to be quiet. The pretty line of her jaw fit right into his hands when he cupped her face and kissed her.

It was all achingly slow. He folded the clothes he'd taken off her, dropped his on top. It was dark in the tent and dark outside. The lamplight turned her into a golden thing, melting into their bed. He counted every freckle down her front from her collarbones to her hips and then dipped his head between her legs to taste her, as easy as he could bear. One of her hands fisted in the bedcovers and the other slipped down to twine into his hair, her fingers tentative and trembling. He loved that too, the pressure of her fingertips, the way she nicked his ear with her thumbnail accidentally as her body shook.

"Gods, Sammy," she said, her voice husky and low.

He kissed her again there, a long kiss that made her sigh, and then worked his way down her thigh to find a new freckle on her knee. He touched his tongue to the bone of her ankle and held her foot in his hand, the ball of his thumb fitting into the arch of her foot. Her toes twitched and he let her go and slid back up, spreading her open gently. She wrapped her arms around him, groaning as he slid in, her head tipping back. The sight of her was too much and it wasn't enough. He wanted to see her, all of her. He slid his arm under her back.

"Hey, babe, you be on top."

She opened her eyes. "Sure I'm not going to spoil your wedding night?"

"I trust you," he said, and kissed her forehead.

It almost hurt to slide out of her, he wanted her so badly, but he lay down on the bed and she straddled him and eased down. The heat of her ran all through his body: he was a fuse on a long burn. She set a slow pace, biting her lip. "You were right," she said. "It should be special."

"Had to happen sometime," he said. "Gods, you're beautiful." She was leaning down over him, her arms smooth and the tiny hairs catching the light. Her hair hung in her face like a halo and her breasts swung heavy to fill up his palms. On her golden skin, the marks of her scars were silver, like frost starting on a window. He touched them all, drawing his hands down the bones of her spine as she shifted over him, almost lying on his chest to kiss him. When she pushed back up, it was like a loss, only there was the glory of her balanced over him, and he was taken up in the heat of her. He braced a hand on her hip, pushing her down, keeping her slow, but he could feel the pleasure building in her, winding tighter and tighter. Her toes clenched against his calves.

"Stay with me, Kara," he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"I know where I am," she said, shivering above him. She looked down at him; her brown eyes were fierce and sad and loving all at once. "I know you, Sammy. Fly with me."

"I'm here," he said, the blankness of pleasure draining all his thoughts away as his thighs tightened. She gasped, her eyes still on him, moving until all he could see was the dark rounds of her pupils, and her muscles were clenching around him and they were gone, breaking atmo together, in the sight of the gods, gods themselves, and stars all around them.


End file.
